


When Will I See You Again?

by Danielofmanycolors



Series: Reddie Playlist [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Gay Richie Tozier, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danielofmanycolors/pseuds/Danielofmanycolors
Summary: It's been weeks since the Loser's Club's final fight with Pennywise, and Richie isn't taking it so well.





	When Will I See You Again?

Richie didn’t forgive himself after he left Derry for the second time. How could he? Not only did he forget his first love, but when they came back, Richie watched him die in his arms. No, Eddie didn’t even die in his arms; he was lying by himself on the cold, wet rocks in the cave. Richie grimaced as he threw back another shot of whiskey at the dimly lit bar. Gripping the glass until his knuckles turned white, he shut his eyes and tried his damn best to forget Derry once more. Unfortunately for him, not even being blackout drunk could erase the image of Eddie’s body from his mind.

Setting the glass down, Richie ran both of his hands through his greasy, matted hair and tugged lightly. Tears had been streaming down his face for the past three hours, but now the tracks had mostly dried and he could only let out empty sobs. He had been wearing the same outfit for about two weeks, not even bothering to change when he went to sleep. Fans of his and news articles with nothing better to write about had begun to think he was finally losing it, cracking under the pressure. Richie couldn’t disagree with them; he’d be the first to say that he was going crazy. People could call it a midlife crisis, but Richie knew better. No, this was just the beginning of the end for him. He didn’t think he could live with himself after seeing Eddie like that.

It wasn’t the fact that Eddie had died that really fueled his rage. No, Richie was pissed at how It was killed. Mike’s dumbass ritual didn’t work and it instead just made Pennywise stronger. Richie stumbled home after being cut off from the bartender. He kept replaying their triumph over and over in his head, how excited he was at first that they had won. But his joy was quickly snuffed out when he ran back over to Eddie, seeing his lifeless body. Richie had still somehow convinced himself that if he had just gotten Eddie out of the cave with them, that he could have still been alive. There was some rational part of his brain that was telling him otherwise, but the rest of his guilt-ridden mind overpowered him.

“Stupid fucking clown,” Richie cursed to himself as he made his way back up to his apartment, slamming his door shut behind him. Finally peeling out of grimy clothes, he headed for the bathroom, sitting himself down on the edge of the tub. Staring at himself in the reflection, his feelings came back tenfold. It should have been me, he thought, his red, puffy eyes tearing up again. Richie had never felt anything this intense before, and it physically pained him. 

Turning on the water, Richie climbed into the tub, not caring about the frigid water beginning to seep around his body. He waited for the tub to fill up almost completely before turning off the water and sinking down deeper. He was freezing, but that didn't stop him from sinking until his head was completely submerged. Slowly letting out his breath, Richie briefly thought what would happen if he let himself drown, right then and there. Letting out the rest of his breath in a dry laugh, he pulled himself back up, taking a deep breath. Richie wasn't brave enough to actually kill himself, he just liked to entertain the thought occasionally. God, he just wanted to end it all sometimes, but how fair would it be to Eddie that Richie made it out of the cave alive just to kill himself weeks later? Richie could imagine the frown on Eddie’s face, and he could hear Eddie tell him that he was being an ass. Richie could imagine himself going quiet for just a split second before quipping back with a “You are what you eat, Eddie. You should thank your mom for the wonderful meal last night for me.” 

“Beep beep, Richie.” It was quiet, forced and broken. Richie looked down at his now wrinkled hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Turning his hands over, he scanned every scar and every freckle. With another sigh, he went back to bathing, washing himself for the first time in roughly a week.

Later that night, he found that he couldn’t sleep; his mind replaying his own screams and cries for help. He kept picturing Eddie’s body still lying there in the cave by himself, buried beneath Derry for the rest of time. There wasn’t anything that Richie wouldn’t give up to be there with him, at the very least take his place. He never got to tell him just how much he meant to him. Sure, Eddie knew that Richie thought of him as his best friend, but Richie wanted more. Richie knew that Eddie had probably suspected something, afterall, Richie had made more than a few incriminating jokes. But he never got to tell him. When they were kids, Richie often found himself imagining the two of them sneaking kisses, or absentmindedly touching each other while they were hanging out.

He couldn’t bring himself to cry anymore; he was just so tired. His head was throbbing and he felt empty inside. Sitting up in his bed, Richie held his head in his hands, wishing for the ache to go away. Groaning as he rolled over and stood up, Richie made his way to the kitchen. The sound of his bare feet padding against the cold wood echoed around him, but somehow just that sound alone was enough to send him into sensory overload. He stumbled into the kitchen, his body slamming against the island in the middle of the room. Letting out a hiss of pain, Richie turned around and started rummaging through his cabinets, hoping to find some sort of liquor that he had yet to get his hands on.

“Lucky me,” he snarked to himself, opening the half-filled bottle of vodka he had found in his search. Normally, Richie would have preferred a simple beer or maybe a whiskey at the strongest, but he decided that if his life was going to shit, vodka might as well be his go-to poison. Pressing the bottle to his lips, Richie let the liquid pour down his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as his stomach and throat began to burn. Not stopping until the bottle was empty, Richie tossed it aside, only vaguely aware of the sound of the bottle shattering. He felt sick, but also oh so good. He crawled over to the kitchen sink, using whatever strength he had left to pull himself up off the ground, just enough for him to lean over the counter. He was sweating, he could feel his face and neck radiating heat. He reached out and smacked the handle, sighing when cold water began pouring from the faucet.

Splashing his face with water, he calmed down a bit; he felt that he could throw up at any moment, which he felt that he probably deserved. His eyes fluttered shut, images of Eddie flashing in his mind as he stood hunched over his sink. Richie had made up his mind. Turning the water off, he stumbled back through the apartment until he reached the front door. Only halfway slipping on his shoes, Richie burst through the door and clambered down the stairs. With a wild grin on his face, he slid into the driver’s seat of his car and started the ignition. He let out a few broken laughs as he peeled out of the parking lot, not really paying attention to where he was going. Even in his highly drunken state, Richie knew that there was a possibility of hitting someone, so he took it slow until he was safely away from everyone else, at least that’s what he thought.

There was a river about ten minutes from where he lived; he had taken the bridge across it many times. Though, at the speed he was going, he reached it in about three. Gripping the wheel tighter as the bridge came into sight, Richie took a deep breath. Mumbling to himself as he sped up, he felt his nerves began to get the better of him, but he pushed on. He drove up the ramp and got about halfway across the bridge before slamming his foot to the floor, the car jolting forward as he made a sharp right. The front of his car crashed through the metal bars lining the sides of the bridge and he flew over the edge. In that moment, Richie felt truly free. As his car plummeted towards the dark water beneath him, he smiled a wide, genuine smile. He hoped whatever hell he went to after he died would let him see Eddie one last time. 

As his car filled up with water, Richie took the time to relax, sinking down further in his seat. Hoping for a quick death, he took the deepest breath he had ever taken, choking when his lungs filled up completely with water. Even through the pain and burning of his lungs, Richie didn’t regret his choice. It didn’t take long for him to lose consciousness.

Richie Tozier was pulled from the water the next morning. Even with his blue lips and fingers, he still had a smile on his face. People speculated about the comedian who suddenly went off his rocker. Most people agreed that it was drugs that had caused him to drive off the bridge, others believed that he couldn’t take the pressure anymore. Richie didn’t care what they thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading this! This is my first story that I've ever posted, so I apologize if it's not the greatest. Please don't hesitate to let me know what I could do better in the comments for next time. You can find me on tumblr at angry-depressed-student, however I don't post much IT content. I hope you liked this <3


End file.
